


That Was Just a Dream

by ab2fsycho



Series: Reddie Set Go, Beep Beep [2]
Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: M/M, and richie saves him, eddie lives goddammit, then gets drugged up in the hospital, trash talk from the trashmouth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-07
Updated: 2019-10-07
Packaged: 2020-11-26 21:34:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20937101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ab2fsycho/pseuds/ab2fsycho
Summary: The deadlights showed him exactly how he'd lose Eddie. Richie couldn't let him go again.





	That Was Just a Dream

The deadlights lingered in the forefront of his mind, showing him images of a future he didn’t want. In fact, it was the future that led to his own death. More importantly, the death of the only person he’d ever really loved. Images of Eddie impaled on a hideous claw, blood pouring from his mouth like tar. Richie screaming his name. 

The clown . . . the fucking clown.

Arms wrapped around Eddie’s body.

The Losers dragging him out because otherwise he’d stay right there, holding him as the world crumbled in on top of them.

The quarry . . . his glass . . . .

Letters on a bridge that needed recarving.

Stan. If only Stan knew what his words had made him do.

Pennywise, voice booming in his head, “Are you gonna let your dirty little secret slip away, Trashmouth?”

“I killed It! Richie, I killed It!” Eddie’s words brought him back to reality. It looked like Eddie was sitting on his chest, his smile so brilliant, his face the one thing Richie could stare at for eternity. 

But he couldn’t right now. He knew this moment.

Richie’s gaze locked on the movement behind Eddie. An arachnid leg shot towards them. “Eddie!” Richie screamed, eyes wide and body moving at a speed he hadn’t known he’d had. He grabbed Eddie by his shoulders, then rolled. The claw struck the ground behind him, sending dirt flying over them. Richie pinned Eddie under him, shielding him with his body. Another claw, sharp and crab-like, struck out.

Richie screamed.

“Richie!” Eddie bellowed, louder and deeper than the man’s voice had ever seemed in his mind. The claw had only pierced him through the hip, but the wound was large and gaping enough that it severed nerves. It dragged Richie off of Eddie, Richie wailing as the claw, like a fork in a piece of steak, tore him away from the rest of what had been a part of him. “You sonofabitch!” Eddie shouted. Through the blackened haze of pain, Richie saw the man grasp a fist full of sharp stone and drive it into the claw connected to Richie’s body. It yanked out, leaving Richie prone on the ground. Once the claw had left his lower back, Eddie was lifting him up. “Come on, Rich!” Richie howled as he was pulled upright. “We’re killing this fucker tonight!”

The rest was a blur, but Eddie made good on that word. Right alongside the rest of them, he saw the end of Pennywise.

\--

Getting Richie out of that lair had been a feat. The tourniquet Eddie had made had held him together long enough to get him out, but by then he was pale from blood loss. Eddie wouldn’t take no for an answer, they were going to the hospital.

It was hours before they were allowed in the room with Richie, sleeping on a reasonable dose of Dilaudid. Ben, Bev, Mike, and Bill had returned to the hotel to shower. Eddie stayed, waiting to see Richie.

Richie had saved him. Again.

Look at me . . . .

It was a memory he’d held onto as long as he could, clinging to it like a promise he couldn’t remember making. There had been a promise. What had he promised? He glanced to his hands, and for a moment he saw a cast on one arm. He saw the vanished cut again on his hand, and his heart sped up.

The kiss. Richie’s lips. Eddie’s breath hitched. That had been real. It had to have been real, there was no other explanation.

The way Richie had held his hands, telling him, “You’re braver than you think.” Eddie was. He’d killed that monster too, clenching his fist over that fragile, beating heart while holding Richie up with his free arm. Then he and the others had carried him out, just as they’d done with him on Neilbolt Street twenty-seven years before.

They’d done it. The scars of the oath had fled their skin. After years of forgetting what they’d promised, they’d won. Eddie hadn’t kept the promise he’d made to Richie, though. He was prepared to say neither had Richie, but here he was, alive. Alive, and being called into the room by the other Losers. When had they gotten back?

“We can see him,” Bev said, relief etched into her beautiful face. “He’s fine, he’s gonna be fine.”

Eddie was still filthy, but he didn’t want to leave yet. He’d just have to wash up in the bathroom. First, he wanted to confirm with his own eyes that Richie was, in fact, fine.

\--

Richie slipped in and out of consciousness. Everything was a blur, meaning his glasses were off. Or he was high off his ass. Both. Both were very possible.

His head rolled on the pillow, gaze swimming around the spotless white room in search of someone. Someone significant. “Hey, Richie,” Bev’s soft voice came, her unclear face leaning into view. Haloed by her red hair, she grasped Richie’s numb hand and asked, “How are you feeling?”

“Ugh,” was all Richie could muster. For the first time, he was completely and utterly speechless.

One by one the others came into view, Ben over Bev’s shoulder, Mike and Bill on the other side of the bed. “That was close,” Bill declared, free of his stutter once again.

“But we did it,” Mike assured. “We actually . . . did it.”

But, “Eddie.” Richie’s eyes widened. That fifth blurred out face wasn’t there. “Eddie!” The deadlights. No, it couldn’t be true! It couldn’t be!

“He’s here, Rich, he’s okay,” Ben declared.

Richie had to see him. He needed physical proof. “EDDIE!” he shouted. All he saw was the blood, black and thick and pouring out of Kaspbrak’s mouth. He started to sit up, his head spinning and his legs tensing. Something beeped at his side, the machines. He went to grasp the cables, his hand heavy, clunky, and bend on ripping the tethers from his body. There was a dull pain, but he didn’t care. He needed Eddie.

“Richie! Richie, stop!” Hands grasped his, pushing them into the hospital bed.

“You’re gonna hurt yourself, Trashmouth,” Ben declared over Bill’s order.

“EDDIE!” Richie cried.

“Sir?” A nurse. Not Eddie. That wasn’t Eddie coming towards him, no, he wanted Eddie. “Sir, we’re gonna have to sedate you if―”

A door burst open, slamming against the wall. “It’s okay! Hey!” That voice. Richie went lax, scanning the room for the source of that voice. Then he saw him, dark hair over a face with a patch of white on his cheek.

“Oh, thank God,” Richie wailed, leaning back into the bed. He reached out for Eddie with both hands, hot streaks of salty wetness running from his eyes. “Thank God, Eddie.”

The man grazed his hands, walking directly between them. Richie fumbled until he was cupping Eddie’s face, palms shaking and sweating and aches springing up all over his body. “I’m here, Rich, it’s okay.” The tears flowed freely, a grin plastered over his face so wide and toothy. Richie couldn’t take his eyes off the other, no matter how blurry the image or how hazy his brain. “We made it, okay?”

“You made it,” Richie murmured.

“We both did.” Eddie’s lips pressed to Richie’s.

Richie could have died right then, and that would have been enough.

\--

Eddie broke the kiss moments after Richie had finally calmed down, then crawled into the small gap between Richie and the bar keeping him from rolling out of the bed. “Sir, I’m gonna have to ask you—”

Eddie turned and pointed to the nurse. “I’ma need you to shut up.”

The nurse persisted, “His condition is still relatively—”

“Don’t tell me about his condition, I brought him here, I know what’s up,” Eddie snapped. He settled onto the bed with Richie, one palm cradling the man’s neck while the other moved to rest on his uninjured stomach.

“Sir, hospital policy dictates—”

Eddie finally shouted, “Don’t tell me about hospital policy, I practically lived here! Have you met my mother?” At that, the nurse shut up. Eddie’s hand jerked up from Richie’s stomach as he directed the woman, “Check his vitals and connections, then let me do what I need to.” The nurse obeyed, the other Losers stepping back and letting Eddie take over.

As the nurse left, Richie’s palm pressed to Eddie’s cheek. Gentle on the knife wound, he hadn’t stopped beaming since Eddie had come into the room again. “Hey, Eddie Spaghetti.”

The smaller man sighed. “He’s feeling better already.”

“I’m perfect with you,” Richie murmured. One look at his dilated pupils, and Eddie knew the man was officially fucked up. Richie’s thumb grazed his cheekbone, tears still pooling under his eyes as he smiled up at him. The infectious look had Eddie smiling back at him. “You’re here.”

“That’s right, I’m here.” Eddie kissed Richie’s lips once more. “I promised.” He started to brush the tears off of Richie’s cheeks, then whispered to him, “But you’re gonna need some tic tacs before I kiss you again.”

“I can get tic tacs,” Bill declared, standing up. Eddie glared at the smirk on the man’s face, but knew it was coming from a place of acceptance and love.

Eddie relented. “I’ll pay you back.” Then he thought about it. “Just kidding, you’re rich as fuck.”

Bill left the room, and Eddie glanced to the other Losers. Ben and Mike were looking anywhere but at them, but they were smiling. Bev was beaming almost as much as Richie, but Richie’s grin was at sunshine levels currently. Eddie looked back to the man he was laying beside, Richie still happily stroking Eddie’s cheek. “Are you hurt at all?” Richie asked, voice quiet and low.

“No, I’m just as perfect,” Eddie assured.

“One more kiss?” Richie asked.

“You can have all the kisses you want after some mints, how about that?” Eddie would prefer a toothbrush and some Listerine, but he’d settle for tic tacs. “You’ve got a real trash mouth, Trashmouth.”

Richie giggled, sounding just like the kid Eddie had fallen for all those years ago. “Do you like it?”

“What, your mouth? Duh.” He’d kissed it.

“You can keep it. It’s a lot of fun.” Mischief was bubbling up in his tone. Eddie probably shouldn’t indulge him in front of the others.

But he did. “I think I will.”

“Yay.” The small victory cheer had Bev chuckling. Mike snorted. Eddie felt his cheeks start to heat up, knowing he shouldn’t encourage this drugged up Richie to keep speaking. Still, it was such a relief to hear his voice. “It stabbed me in the ass Eddie,” he suddenly whined. It was Ben who laughed this time, the sound deep and muffled by a hand. “I don’t think I want anything in my ass for a while.”

Now everyone was red. “Wish granted,” Eddie said.

“You still think it’ll look okay?”

“What?”

“My ass.”

Eddie sighed, then rolled his eyes. “Considering he didn’t even hit your cheek, I think your ass is fine.”

Richie’s eyes widened, head craning upward as he stage whispered, “You looked at my ass.”

“Oh my God, is this what we’re talking about right now?” Eddie asked.

“It’s important,” Richie continued to whisper.

Eddie looked to the others for help, but they were too busy enjoying the show. Eddie growled, “It’s a very nice ass, but maybe we should discuss physicalities later.”

“I like later, later means you’re staying,” Richie murmured. His eyes started to flutter shut.

Eddie smiled. “I am. You can’t get rid of me just yet.”

“I never want to get rid of you.”

“Got ‘em.”

Eddie exhaled in relief as Bill tossed the small plastic container onto Richie’s chest. Richie jolted, staring at the tic tacs with a childish curiosity. “My savior,” Eddie said. “Thanks Big Bill.” He popped the container and took two candies. Then he pressed them to Richie’s lips. The man clumsily took them with his tongue, and in seconds his throat bobbed. “Did you just swallow them?”

“Yeah.”

“No, keep them in your mouth.” Eddie popped two more passed Richie’s lips. He heard a crunch. “Don’t chew! Suck!”

“I’ll suck your dick.”

Eddie’s face was on fire. He didn’t dare look up at the others as Bill asked, “Have they been like this since I left?”

“Yeah,” the three answered in unison.

“Until your mouth’s been properly cleansed, it’s not coming anywhere near my junk,” Eddie whispered this time.

“That’s not what your mom said.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Eddie hissed, popping two more tic tacs into Richie’s mouth. “Goddamn fuckface.”

“I want you to fuck my face.”

“Richie!” Eddie shouted, temper flaring. A vein pulsed in his forehead, he swore he could strangle fucking Tozier. No. He was probably into that.

“We can take turns,” Richie pouted, obediently sucking on the tic tacs this time.

“Later!” Eddie hissed.

“Promise?” Eddie didn’t answer. He had already been stripped of any dignity he still had in front of the remaining Losers. “You’re cute when you’re mad.”

“Goddammit Rich.”

“You’re so cute.” A finger dragged from Eddie’s temple and along his jaw. “I love you.”

Irritation gave to warmth in Eddie’s chest. “I love you, too,” he replied without hesitation.

“Really?” Richie’s jubilant expression returned full force.

“Really.” Eddie couldn’t help but smile back. “Now kiss me, you fucking idiot.”

**Author's Note:**

> I literally woke up with this in my head and could not go back to sleep until I wrote it.


End file.
